Distortion (Book 2 of The Corruption Sequence)

Chapter 2 - Are You Trying to be Nice to Me?

Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed staring straight ahead when he felt the wards on the room change. The Occlumency training he had been through over the entirety of the previous year was helping somewhat, but he could not find the calm centre that he needed to make it completely effective. Without the hunger driving him, the instincts running through his body were easier to keep in check, but they were disturbing.

He was uncomfortably aware that, sooner or later, the hunger would return.

Dumbledore had remained with him for over an hour and they had talked, but Harry had found many of the reassurances hollow. He had had to curb his tongue several times. There had been a few instances where he hadn't managed it and sitting on the desire to make Dumbledore more and more uncomfortable had been difficult.

The fact that the headmaster always appeared calm was a great feat in self-control as far as Harry could tell, because he had not been able to ignore some of the stronger emotions coming from his mentor. Since Dumbledore had left, Harry had been trying to simply not think anymore.

He turned to look at the door just as it opened. Professor Snape walked in.

"Good afternoon, Mr Potter," the dour man greeted shortly, "I have been sent to fetch a blood sample."

That was another thing Dumbledore had mentioned; he had told Harry that finding out which of Voldemort's additions had taken and which had not was an unavoidable top priority. The Ministry was insisting on it.

That he was going to be a lab rat was something that annoyed him, but was also inevitable. He was a thing never seen before. The Ministry was never going to just let him walk away. Dumbledore had insisted that the information was required so they could help him; Harry was pretty sure it was more likely the Ministry wanted to find out his weaknesses.

He could not help the bitter amusement this caused in him and Snape's turn of phrase made him smile menacingly.

"Going to trade?" he asked, baring his teeth for good measure.

That earned him an unimpressed, raised eyebrow from the Potions' Master.

Over the previous year it could not be said that they had become friends, but they had made peace. Harry had returned for his sixth year a much more serious student, completely dedicated to preparing for his confrontation with Voldemort. This new attitude had not initially made much impact on Snape; but after they had had a very loud, very long argument after one of his Occlumency lessons they had reached an understanding. A truce had been called.

"I taste of dank dungeons and unpleasant potions' ingredients, Mr Potter," Snape replied coolly, "I doubt you would find me palatable."

Harry gave a rather self-depreciating laugh at that.

"That wouldn't stop me if I was hungry, Professor," he said plainly.

"Ah yes, but, Mr Potter," Snape returned, putting down the equipment he had brought will him; "I am a Slytherin and, as such, would not be stupid enough to come in here if you were hungry."

The retort that came to Harry's mind involved pointing out to Snape how one Slytherin had already had the misfortune of finding out about his new nature personally, but that brought enough conflict with it into his mind that he managed to keep his mouth shut.

"So, what is the latest consensus of opinion, Professor," Harry asked, distracting himself from his thoughts, "do the Ministry want to dispose of me as quickly as possible, or preserve me for future study?"

"I think the factions are equally matched," Snape replied in complete seriousness as he picked up a container and checked it carefully. "If you would roll up your sleeve, Mr Potter."